Day of Firsts

                This morning, for the first time in my life, a rooster actually woke me up. After a quick breakfast and a face-paced walk through back woods, narrow dirt paths, and inevitable wrong turns, we made it to work at 7:30am, just in time for the doctors meeting. There, young doctors from all over the world used this time to vent about the system, a tough patient, or one they were really worried about, then they all went their separate ways to make rounds all around the 10 acre hospital. I followed the doctor who was in charge of the female ward today.

                Never in my life have I seen so many young, beautiful women, decimated by disease, and yearning for the power to take their next breaths. In every section of the female ward, women were dying of opportunistic infections complicated by their HIV+ status. As we made rounds, we passed a woman who was 32 years old, 5’7” and 88 pounds. As I watched the doctor examine her, we realized she was taking her last breaths… I helped the nurses find her family information, and fill out the death certificate; there is no resuscitation in the female ward. I watched for the first time in my life, someone die, and honestly to see that she was not in pain, that she was tired, struck by a “bout” of social circumstance and chance, she just seemed tired.

 In 2 hours, the doctor had examined, checked treatment adherence, and spoken to (in broken Zulu), more than 50 admitted patients, the majority of who were under 30. After helping out (minimally) during a spinal drainage procedure on a woman with a CD4 cell count of 28, who had developed bacteria spinal meningitis, and helping during a lung drainage procedure on a girl who was 20 (my age) who had HIV and TB and telling here everything will be alright and actually seeing her smile and calling me sister… it was definitely time for a lunch break/ break for sanity.

The doctor who I was shadowing luckily took a break with me, and reminded me that for many patients in rural South Africa, they do not come to the hospital until they are gravely ill, and therefore I should be not be discouraged by the sights seen, and surprisingly, after seeing blood, fluid, and tissue come from places that I KNOW they should not belong …I was completely fine. After lunch, I returned just in time to sit in on a C-section and for the first time ever, see a person being born (I know, ironic).  It was amazing. The mother was 21, and very, very small, but she did an awesome job, although she was asleep. (And no, everyone, I was not queasy, I did not sweat, and it was actually quite fascinating to see how resilient the body is).

Seeing the mental, physical, and spiritual resilience, and hearing “ngbonga” or thank you from girls my age who were missing school to sit and die thanking me for simply  standing next to them with a mask on, and holding their hand with latex gloves on, completely separated, put a lot of things in perspective. In many ways, I am not sure how or if I can help, or even how or what I can learn, but I know that no matter what , being thankful, humble, and willing to do the things many people won’t do because they are too proud, makes God smile.